


I Shan't Recover This Time

by BeggarWhoRides



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blade of Hastur, Episode 34 Spoilers, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, Self-Sacrifice, Written pre-Episode 35, post-Episode 34
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeggarWhoRides/pseuds/BeggarWhoRides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadly things are the prettiest. </p><p>Something I had to write after the painful curveball that was episode 34. Ahead there be spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Shan't Recover This Time

**Author's Note:**

> It figures that the one thing to make me really need to write, after a long long dry spell, would be the punch to the gut that was episode 34. In case you missed the other warnings--there are spoilers ahead. Reader beware. 
> 
> This is sort of a companion/sequel to one of my other Carmilla works, "everything's burning (nothing's on fire)" but stands alone. A final warning: This is NOT a fix-it.
> 
> EDIT: Name of the Blade of Hastur has been fixed.

_Do you know why I chose you, Mausi?_ Mother had murmured once while she put up her hair. _Deadly things are the prettiest. You were just too lovely to leave as a living womb, or dead behind that mansion. I saved you, you know._ Mother grabbed the ends of her hair and twisted, just a little too tight. _Now give us a smile._

She pulled back her lips, staring at the mirror full of pallor and bone-white teeth. Mother smiled, teasing her fingers through the black strands. There was a mirror behind them as well as in front, and she could see Mother and a dead thing back and forth and back and forth without and end in sight. 

She wondered if Mother had done it on purpose. 

_You're such a lovely thing,_ Mother crooned, wrapping a golden chain around her neck and pulling it tight, then shut the clasp and let the pendant fall to above where a heart could have been should have been. The ruby glinted in the light. 

_The girl's name is Elle Hesselius,_ Mother told her, dropping her hands to rub circles into pale shoulders. _Brown curly hair, the General's daughter. You'll recognize her easily, and then it's just another game._

_Just another game,_ she replied, and so did all her reflections, one after another after another after another. She couldn't see where they ended. _Just another._

_I love you, mausi,_ Mother promised, and pressed a kiss into her hair. _You're such a pretty thing._

\-----------------

The Blade of Hastur was another pretty thing. They matched each other well.

Others would say that it glimmered like gold, but she'd been around enough gold in her life and after to know that it didn't. It shone and glistened like water, even bone dry, like if you looked away for even a second it would ripple and flow like a river. There were no jewels, barely any hilt or handle--mostly just a blade as long as her arm and half as wide, shining in the pitch-black-dark of night far from the city. 

She'd pulled it from the cliff with her shirt between her hand and the sword, dried it with the jacket she'd left on the shore, and now she sat with her feet in the sand and the blade on the sand. She could almost hear it whispering, ever-so-faintly, promising her strength, victory, everything she wanted. 

The Blade of Hastur consumed all who used it. If she lifted it, she would lose herself. 

If she didn't, she would lose Laura. Laura, with her straight hair the color between blonde and brown, her eyes that sparkled with a warmth she was sure she'd never had, Laura who just wanted to save people.

She just wanted to save Laura. 

The sword was flaming ice in her hand, twisting from its shape and burrowing into her veins, roaring through her bones and rewriting her and oh, _oh_ she understood now. 

The blade wasn't the weapon, was never the weapon (she lifted her hand, saw shimmering golden light forming claws at the end of her fingers, looked into the water and saw a single face reflected back, eyes blazing gold--the face was scattered and distorted by the waves but it was hers and only one) but the blade was power and she could feel it killing her for good. 

It was burning her alive.

No. 

It was burning her _alive._

\------------------

Hundreds of years ago and thousands of miles away, a girl calling herself Lalmirca was thrown about in her carriage when it took a curve just a bit too fast in front of the beautiful home of a girl named Elle and her father. Lalmirca lay limp as she was pulled from the carriage, listened to Mother made token protests and distressed noises and a girl--Elle, it must be--begged her father to let her stay. 

Elle was a perfect hostess, kind and sweet and always willing to let any momentary strangeness pass dismissed and never spoken of again. She was as lovely as her long curls that were a warm sort of brown, her eyes that were endlessly blue. It took hardly any effort on the other girl's part to foster a friendship with her, even less to promote attraction. 

What was difficult was hiding that the feelings were mutual. This girl was a mark, prey for Mother, she would not survive the three months they were meant to stay together, the attraction could not be. 

But it was.

And she did not want Elle to fall to whatever fate waited her. 

So she planned. She memorized maps of the surrounding areas, the roads Mother would return on, the winding paths through thick woods that led into town. She'd made bribes she thought were large enough, called on those who lived in houses with hidden basements she'd thought she could trust, kissed Elle and was kissed in return and drank blood from a hidden solid-colored flask whenever she was sure she was alone. 

She'd gone to meet Elle and Elle had shrieked, Mother came out of the shadows and Elle hid behind her and crossed herself and sobbed, and Mother had soothed while grinning at Lalmirca, stroking Elle's caramel curls and cooing _I know, how horrible for you darling, what a terrible terrible beast, a hellspawn. How terrible that she's seduced you in this way._

 _She's a monster!_ Elle had cried, pointing a shaking finger and looking as if she was face-to-face with Beelzebub himself. 

_She is, she is,_ Mother agreed. _Oh child, I wish I could tell you you're safe now. But you're just not as pretty as my pretty disobedient monster._

Then Mother grabbed Elle's hair and Elle _screamed,_ and the girl who called herself Lalmirca, the girl who had been Mircalla screamed along with her, running forward until Mother's other children had grabbed her and held her tight but she kept screaming, begging, _please please Mama please I'll never disobey again I'll find you another girl I'll do anything Mama please I love her I love her take me instead Mama please--_

And Mother had laughed, because _you think I'd take you instead? Oh pretty thing, your punishment's only just begun._

Elle had screamed again. 

And then she'd been gone. 

 

A few months ago, in a dormitory not far away, a creature calling herself Carmilla went where Mother pointed her to sleep in the bed of one of the taken girls and bide her time until she was needed again. She made no attempts to endear herself to the tiny long-haired girl who was her new roommate, and the girl (Laura, from the Latin for laurels used in victory garlands, but she's mostly just _sweetheart_ or _cutie_ or _cupcake)_ doesn't hide her distrust or disdain. 

It's more effective than active flirtation. 

And damn it all, but she feels herself falling the same way Lalmirca did. 

She doesn't want to. Things are much more complicated now--there's a redheaded Amazon to deal with, and two other redheads that are less tall but somehow manage to be everywhere but she does what she can--flirts and teases and brings her cocoa (though she still steals clothes and cookies because after four centuries of death she's entitled to some things), and she gives Laura a bat wing charm because that's all she can use to try and stop history repeating itself. 

Then the gang of redheaded dolts+the oblivious roomie manage to _kidnap_ her and it's everything she'd tried so hard to avoid with Elle--her true nature, being looked at like an abomination--they thought _she_ was kidnapping the girls and it would've been hysterical if she wasn't tied to a chair and slowly starving. 

She even spilled her story, nasty bits and all. 

It figures that the thing that would actually make Laura hate her would be saving her. 

She had thought--she had _actually_ thought, idiotic naive vampire--that together they stood a chance, that they might be able to stand up to Mother, to destroy that terrible hungry light and not get caught. She'd thought Mother wouldn't _notice,_ of all the foolish things. And then she'd thought Laura wouldn't know, forgotten about 21st century things like video cameras in the aftermath of magic centuries old. 

The problem was that Laura still thought of Carmilla as a good person. But the girl-that-once-was-Mircalla knew so much better, because Kirsch was a good man, the same as the noble boy who was the vampire's first victim, and all the people after that, and all their deaths were that vampire's fault and she had the gall to keep existing. 

She regretted throwing Kirsch to the wolves, she did--but she would never regret keeping Laura away from Mother's clutches. 

At least until Laura threw herself into them and Carmilla stripped to pants and a camisole and threw herself into the ocean. If she had been smarter, if she had been faster, if she had outwitted Mother then Laura would be safe, Laura wouldn't have been plagued with dreams of Elle (and that girl's blood was on her hands too, wasn't it?), Laura wouldn't be food right now. 

She just wanted to save Laura. 

Later, on the beach, she would grab the Blade of Hastur with a smile and let it take her. 

\----------------

"Carmilla, Carmilla hey, hey, hi. Thank god, thank god, you're awake, you're gonna be fine." 

Laura's face blurred in her field of vision, and everything seemed to be moving slightly, like on a ship when the captain swears up and down that the waters are still but you can still feel the wood beneath you rocking. She saw blood on her face and tears on her cheeks and her hair was mussed but she was there she was alive and she was an angel--no halo, no wings, but so undeniably an angel. 

Laura was okay. 

With a monumental effort, she tore her eyes away to look around the room--there were the missing girls and Kirsch, shaking and holding onto each other, all of them clustered around Danny like moths to a light, and there Perry was clinging to LaFontaine and both of them were staring at her with horrified looks and that meant nothing good. 

"...Safe?" she managed to rasp, after several moments of swallowing and trying, and oh, she was really in trouble. Laura grabbed her hand, nodding and trying to smile. 

"They're fine, Carm, you did it, the vamps are gone, the Dean is dead, the light...I don't know if you can kill a hungry light but it's gone, you did it." 

"...You?" 

"I'm fine, I'm totally fine, and you're gonna be fine, we're gonna get you out of here and to the infirmary and they're gonna patch you up. I mean everyone survived the cupcake spiders, this sort of thing will take no time at all to fix." 

"Laura..." It's LaFonatine speaking now, and they're a bit bruised but they're alive, thank god, "Laura, I don't know a lot about undead biology but I don't think she's got a lot of time." 

"No, no!" Laura's crying now, shaking her head and holding on tighter. The dying dead girl can feel Laura's whole body trembling and _oh, I'm in her lap, she's holding me. It's nice._ "We're going to be fine, we're all going to be fine, you don't know anything, _you don't know her!_ Just...just get some bandages, and she can drink my blood and everything will be okay! She'll be okay!" 

She wants to deck LaFontaine for making Laura cry, but she couldn't feel her arms and legs anymore, wasn't sure if they were still there or not, couldn't find the strength to turn away from the sight of Laura's tears. There was a moment of silence and then Carmilla--because Laura called her Carmilla and she wanted to be Carmilla and she wasn't sure if she was going to be at all for much longer--began to choke, her body twisting and shaking as it realized _a terrible thing has happened, we have been destroyed_ and some long-lost long-useless instinct kicked in to try and fill her lungs with useless air. 

"No no nono, Carmilla!" Laura's hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around her even as she jerked and gasped for air she didn't need. "Carmilla don't do this, you can't do this, it's my fault you're here and I was so horrible to you, I'm so sorry, Carmilla please! I love you." The words are choked around a sob, and Carmilla's gasp was less of a desperate plea for air and more of a _she said it, she does, and god I love her too, I need to tell her._ "I love you, I'm sorry, I love you I love you, and you can't die, okay, because I love you and I need you." 

"Love..." Her body isn't rebelling anymore, it's shutting down, she's going limp in Laura's arms, but she has to tell her, she has to _know,_ because she loves her _so much._ "Laura...I..." Her gasps have turned to rattles inside her chest, and she can't help but remember the pretty whorehouse girl whose blood had been so bittersweet, the way she'd been coughing and the way she'd cried. 

"Okay," Laura said gently, "I get it. You don't have to try to talk anymore, okay? I get it." and she thought she could hear sniffling from behind them but the world was losing all its sharp corners and there wasn't much of anything except for Laura's face, Laura murmuring kindnesses and promises she couldn't keep, and she wanted to tell her not to be sad, she'd died 334 years ago, to tell her it wasn't her fault, that she didn't regret coming to save her, not at all, and to tell Kirsch she was sorry but she'd do it again, for Laura she'd do anything, Laura with hair so different from Elle's, straight and long and the color of wheat in the sun where Elle's had been that of caramel candy, Laura who had eyes that were warm like fertile earth, like sunbeams were living just behind them, and had she ever told Laura that?

Hadn't anyone told Laura about Laura's wondrous soul?

 _Deadly things are the prettiest,_ Mother had said a hundred lifetimes ago, and the girl who called herself Lalmirca had believed her. Carmilla knew she was wrong. 

"You're beautiful," she told Laura, and before the world faded out completely, she thought she saw Laura smile. 

\-------------------------------

_Episode 35_

"I thought she was an angel." 

Laura doesn't look directly at the camera, but seems to be focusing on something to the right of it. She blinks twice, furiously, and Danny steps forward. 

"Laura, you're tired, we're all tired, you don't have to do this now--"

"Yes I do!" Laura snaps, spinning in her chair to face her TA. "Don't you see? They have to know! They have to know what she did, and that I was wrong, and they have to...they have to _know,"_ she finishes weakly, new tears threatening to spill over. Danny nods, though she looks away as she does so, and steps back. Laura turns back to the screen and, with a bit of effort, looks directly into the camera. 

"They had us outnumbered almost right away, even Danny didn't stand a chance, there must've been twelve or fifteen vamps--nobody had any idea there'd be that many. LaFontaine went straight to where the missing girls and Kirsch were, and just...sat. Vacant eyed, in a circle, silent. And a couple vamps were holding onto Perry and I, and a few of them tackled Danny to the ground. We couldn't do anything. The vamps...they started talking about how they had extras now. They were arguing about who got to take the first bite." She shudders at that, hand going to rub her neck where Carmilla's bite marks are still faintly visible. "The Dean was there, and she was laughing, and...

"And then Carmilla broke down the door. She...she wasn't glowing exactly, but there was this golden aura around her, it was almost like she was floating and her eyes were--they were just _gold._ Liquid gold. I thought she was an angel." Her voice breaks on the last word and she stops for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before continuing. 

"Then sh-she hissed, like a cat, fangs out and everything, and leaped forward, and they swarmed her, and they tore her apart and she kept going. I don't know if it was the Blade, or Carmilla being a stupid stubborn vampire, but she kept going. They _tore her apart_ and she just _kept going,_ and..." She starts to sob in earnest, turning away from the camera and using her hands to try and muffle the sound. Danny looks up, but it's Perry who reaches her first, kneeling in front of Laura and gently taking her wrists in her hands. 

"Okay sweetheart, it's okay. You've done enough now. Go take a minute, okay? I'll finish the video. I promise. Okay, sweetie, that's it, there you go." She ushers Laura into the bathroom, rubbing her back and trying to comfort her for a few moments before sitting in Laura's chair, back ramrod straight and hands clasped in her lap.

"Right," she says with forced brightness, though if you look you can see tears shimmering in her eyes. 

"Carmilla Karnstein was very, very brave. She sacrificed herself tonight to save the girl she loved, and in the process saved all of us here in this room, not to mention future members of the Silas University community." She stops here, swallows, and LaFontaine, after a moment of hesitation, takes her hand. Perry smiles at them, then turns back to the camera. 

"She was a hero. Whatever else she did, whatever else she was, she was a hero. And she deserves to be remembered as such."

The room is enveloped in silence, punctuated by the faint sound of Laura sobbing in the bathroom. Kirsch sniffs and Danny places a hand on his shoulder. Betty lets out a low cry. 

After a few moments Perry leans forward and turns the camera off.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was supposed to be a couple hundred words. It...escalated. 
> 
> A few notes: Elle's last name is taken from the novella. It is the name of the doctor who treats the "mysterious subject" whose narrative makes up the original novella.  
> The effects of the Blade of Hastur were all made up completely by me.  
> The title is from Virginia Woolf's suicide letter, an excerpt from which Carmilla posted to her blog around when episode 34 aired. 
> 
> This was written and published before episode 35. So please forgive the inaccuracies I'm sure are present, as I am not psychic.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Any and all comments and criticism is welcomed with open arms.


End file.
